PayDay - Undercover
by JebCC
Summary: This ongoing story branches off into many other chapters, and will reveal to the reader, the simple and not so simple life of the heisters in the PayDay gang. It goes into detail of the conflicts, not just on the battlefield, but undercover; the law, witnesses and other rivalries.
1. Prologue

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PayDay - Undercover**  
A fan-fiction series by JebCC

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Note to readers: Hello, and welcome to my humble piece of writing. And my first piece of writing to go public. I'll admit, I'm not FANTASTIC at writing. But I try my best to make stories that are both entertaining and understandable. Like the title suggests, I'm starting off with writing a fan-fiction of PayDay, 1 + 2. I will base events off of both games, and try to be accurate as possible to the actual information set by the developers themselves. It'll be a few chapters long, perhaps even longer, depends on how well it goes. Also note, the content in my stories have a lot of violence, a lot of coarse language, and a whole load of 'nope' for any viewers that are squeamish or too innocent for the internet. But other than that viewer advice, I hope you enjoy reading. And feel free to give feedback!

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**Prologue**

"So, you think you have a lead?"  
"Oh I know so, sir." The woman smiles, a slight hint of what seems like greed lined across her lips.  
"And where's your proof?"  
"I was hoping you'd ask." She winks and drags the heavy metal suitcase out from under her chair, heaving it onto the casino table. "Take a look at this. I have security footage, criminal files, and… I know who one of the heisters are." She smiles wickedly. The man stares at the files in front of him. Shocked, but seemingly used to having documents shoved in front of him as if he was a photocopier.

"...Do you think this is the best place to be discussing this?"  
"Hm… Perhaps not." The woman bites her lip as she smirks, standing up from the cushioned seat, bending over the table to re-sort the evidence, her short red dress moving up her body to reveal her bare thighs. The man stands up, uncaring about the scene, walks towards the casino exit, the woman following behind, suitcase by her side. She holds it relatively close to her body, as if it was her most prized possession. They continue to walk along the block, disappearing into a nearby alleyway that leads into an enclosed parking lot, surrounded by shady units and boarded abandoned apartments.  
"You have no idea how long I've been working on this for… I've neglected everything to put my time to this, and I am so happy I finally have someone to show my completed work." They stop walking. She blinks repeatedly, the nearby lamp post showing her obvious truth, blinding straight through her makeup to reveal her sore tired eyes. The man shakes it off and looks to the ground, more entertained with the pebbles that he kicks with the tip of his shoe.

"Well I'm glad you've brought this to my attention. May I ask, is there anyone who has helped you with this? Anyone at all?"  
"No. I've had to do this all on my own. People keep thinking I'm obsessed. They'll thank me though. You'll have these terrible men caught in no time, yes?"  
He glances up from the ground, directly looking into her eyes.  
"...Yes." The man adjusts slightly, raising his arm to the woman who now gazes in horror, jaw dropped. The gun of the silenced barrel stares straight back at her as he fires a single pistol bullet, straight into her forehead. Her body falls to the ground, blood splattered over the gravel road ground. "Thank you for your information." The man holsters his gun and picks up the suitcase, carrying it with him out of the parking lot, getting into the taxi waiting for him.


	2. Chapter 1 - New Mind

**PayDay - Undercover**  
A fan-fiction series by JebCC

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Note to readers: Hello again! Hope you enjoy this little snippet. I should probably state my schedule, I work on my story whenever I'm not busy, usually at school. And I'll try to make it a habit to finish and upload on weekends or Fridays. A chapter a week might work. If you have any concerns or suggestions, please tell me! I am open to reviews.  
As for the rating: Rated M for mature audiences; the series will have swearing, violence, bloodshed, and gruesome murders. Enjoy, you sick twisted bastards.

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**Chapter 1 - New Mind**

"Ah. Bloody hell, it's been too long since I've been 'ere." Jim laughs in excitement as he enters the run-down laundromat. He passes by the "SOLD" sign and into the dusty room where many washing machines lay dead against the walls. Some with their glass smashed in, others completely disconnected from the wall, lying on the dirty tiled floor. The place hadn't been cleaned in months, the only time it'd be cleaned out was when the mice became too apparent, and even then, it didn't bother the owners. Jim walks past the long line of clothes hangers, clinging to a single curved bar.

Nicolas walks in behind Jim and follows him as he, the man in the prison jumpsuit, admires each little memorable characteristic of the building. He walks into the back area of the laundromat where the kitchen is located, as well as many lounge room chairs. Whilst it's only a small place, the majority of the room is crowded with cardboard boxes, each labelled with either a name or an item; "Chains", "Dallas", "Hoxton". Jim stops in front of the package labelled "Hoxton" and smirks as he picks it up, behind it is another three packages addressed to him that hadn't been touched since his time in jail. He holds the package up to his ear and shakes it lightly. "Heh, is this what I think it is?" Jim grins. He stops shaking it, lowering the package as he stares at the middle of the room. A statue of a woman stands proudly, made of the finest looking stone, and carved from the finest tools. "Lady Justice" stands proudly, one hand holding a set of Greek scales. Her other hand…

Jim is shocked as he walks towards her, picking up the sticky-note from her broken off arm. It reads; "Sorry about that. -Dallas." Jim groans in disappointment, staring at the ragged stone at the end of her arm, the other part of her arm no where in sight. "Fucking, Dallas."  
"Don't worry, Jim. He's made it up to us by buying us all dinner. No doubt he'll buy you some too."  
"Shit, I could really go for a pizza or something. Prison food is 'orrible'." Jim grumbles as he fumbles around his pocket. "Damn."  
"It's alright. I got it." Nicolas pulls out a bundle of dollar bills, wrapped with a rubber band. He places it onto one of the pedestals of the Greek scales, held by Lady Justice. The scale tips slightly.

A loud roaring sound echoes and bounces from wall to wall, the floorboards next to the statue moving underneath the floor to reveal a secret passage underground. Thin steps lead down into the cold dark area, lit up by the many computer screens seated against the wall. Jim and Nicolas make their way down, Nicolas almost disappearing into the darkness because of his black skin, his black suit not helping either. Jim jokes; "Shit, Nic, I lost ya."  
"Yeah, you're real funny, Hox." He calls him by his nickname. Click. The lights buzz to life, the many hallways leading out from the single basement room slowly slither into view as the lamps fizzle on. The place is messy of course, wires taped to the ceiling, the floor just cement, even a whole vent system open to view. But the residences of the laundromat knew to expect this, in fact, it's just what they wanted. It was home. Jim sits at the computer desk, looking at the many monitors on the wall, each showing the view of one of the many security cameras in the underground lair. "Hey… We got a new one?"

"Yeah, for the shooting range." Nic crosses his arms, waiting for Jim to finish his self-re-tour of the place. Jim shakes his head and leans back, bewildered by the fact that he was finally back home.  
"This is nice. This is really fuckin' nice."  
"...Hey, Jim. You gotta check this out." He smirks and pats him on his shoulder. Jim looks up at him.  
"Hm?" He gets up and starts to follow Nicolas, to the end of the large open room where Nic stops and stands by the large safe door.  
"Check this out." With a swipe of a keycard, the iron door slowly creaks open. Slowly, but loudly. Jim's eyes widen as he stares into the well-lit vault that was previously covered by the thick door, in the middle of the room is a table, practically showered in bundles of money, some spilt onto the floor. And at the back of the room, boxes worth of money that stands all the way to the ceiling of the room. "Holy shit. How much did you get whilst I was gone?"  
"We were hooked up with a heist or two from Bain."  
"Heist or two" He mumbles; "At least in the nick I didn't have Bain yapping in my ear like a little needy dog. 'Get the drill' my ass..."

Nicolas chuckles and continues to inform; "Yeah, we took down a bank, without the police arriving."  
"Fuck me, you're jokin'."  
"We also managed to grab a stack of gold from a shipping company. That's what really brought in the money."  
Jim snickers and walks out of the room, Nicolas following, back upstairs, taking the bundle of money from Lady Justice's scales to close the secret door in the floor. "I have to go find Dallas." Jims walks over to the kitchen, typing in a few numbers into the phone, sitting on the bench.  
"He might be busy, but you can try." Nic shrugs. Jim holds the speaker of the phone up to his ears and waits, opening the fridge door whilst he waits for Dallas to pick up.

"...Hey!"  
"Well look who it is. Calling me for the first time in months."  
"No thanks to you. Is Shit-for-Brains around?" Jim asks, Nic looking at him puzzled.  
"Yeah, sure. Here." Ruffling is heard through the speaker. Houston answers; "Hello?"  
"Hey you fucking twat. Put Dallas back on."  
"Pssht." Houston huffs and passes the phone back to Dallas.  
"What do you need, Jim?" Dallas asks.  
"You owe me some dinner."  
"I do. Tomorrow night, after the interview?" Dallas uses 'interview' as a code word for heist, interviews usually taking the same length of time as a heist as well.  
"If there isn't any bloodshed."  
"Hopefully…" Dallas groans a little, more shuffling heard. "I'll see you tomorrow. Remember, 10:48 sharp, your house." Once again, another code word, your house referring to the safehouse that Nic and Jim stands in at the present moment.

"Sounds great." Jim suddenly yells into the phone. "See you tomorrow, fucktard!"  
"Alright, easy Jim. See ya tomorrow."  
Jim hangs up. Nicolas rolls his eyes. "When are you going to get off Houston's back?"  
"When I'm dead and he has a new mask."  
"Yes, I know he has yours, but we didn't have a spare for him."  
"Whatever. I'm heading off now. Thanks for the ride, I'll get my friend to pick me up from here. Been meaning to pay him back for his help. Finally can."  
"You're welcome, man." Nicolas nods and walks out of the laundromat, leaving Jim in the kitchen. Silence. He looks over to the boxes labelled "Hoxton", smiling a little as he approaches them.


	3. Chapter 2 - Unplanned Recovery

**PayDay - Undercover**

A fan-fiction series by JebCC

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Note to readers: Hello my readers! Just a reminder, if you like what I write and you enjoy the story, this IS an ongoing regularly updated fan-fiction. So if you would like to read more, follow this story! You won't miss a chapter, or completely forget about the story! I do that sometimes. Read something and completely forget about it the next day. Oops. Well have fun with this one! And don't worry, the action is coming veeeery soon. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2 - Unplanned Recovery**

"You're just going to have to wait, Hox."  
"Wait my ass. I've been rotting in prison for damn months."  
"I'm sorry but we just can't do this heist with less than three people. If you have a problem, talk to the others."  
"Fuckin' shit." Jim swears as he bangs his fist onto the bench, the mirror in front of him shaking a little, Jim's half scarred face in the glass pane rattling as a result."Bain, yapping-dog piece of repetitive shitbag."  
Nathan shakes his head. "Jim... "  
"Right. Time to talk to Wolf."

"Be easy on him. Not his fault." Nathan scowls, Jim walking out of the kitchen and down into the secret basement of the safe-house. "Wolf, fucking dammit." On the side of the room are steel bed frames lining the concrete walls, some with mattresses, some not. Wolf lies on his side on one of the thicker bare mattresses with his back turned to Jim, facing the wall. He mumbles idly a few words in Swedish to himself, as if it comforted him.  
"Wolf." Jim stops and stands next to his bed. Wolf turns his head to the side, facing the ceiling, but his eyes concentrated on Jim.  
"Ja?" He answers quietly. Jim takes a deep breath, ready to say something, but he doesn't. He sighs the air out and sits at the end of the bed, making sure to not accidentally sit on Wolf's legs. The extra weight causing both men to slightly sink more into the mattress.  
"How bad is the injury?" Jim asks softly. As soft as he can, with his naturally threatening British voice.  
"Oh. Well… It's a little hard to move…" Wolf speaks in his Swedish accent, scratching his forehead. The gang has always called Wolf by simply his nickname, mainly because Wolf never told anybody his real name anyway. Despite being in such a dark dense corner of the room, Wolf seems quite comfortable, as if this were his normal nap spot in the safehouse.

"Wolf. Houston is out on a trip, and we only have you to help do the heist."  
"Oh. No no no... I-"  
"All you gotta do is stay in the same area as me. The others can do all the running around."  
"Jim!" Nathan sternly growls, walking down the stairs and into the basement, over to the two men as Wolf randomly starts humming to himself. "I refuse to have Wolf on this heist. He won't only be disadvantaged himself, but he's going to be a risk to all of us. If we get caught, Wolf won't be able to save us." Nathan lectures.  
"He'll be paired up with me. It'll be fine."  
"No, Jim. It won't be." Nathan groans, both him and Jim looking towards Wolf at the same time unintentionally. Wolf relaxes, with his hands underneath his mostly bald head. Wolf stops humming to himself and stares at them awkwardly, back and forth between the two.  
"...What?" Wolf tilts his head in confusion.

Jim shakes his gaze away. "...What if I can get somebody to help?"  
"Who?" Nathan crosses his arms, entertained to see what person Jim will manage to pull out of his hat.  
"...What about the new guy?" Jim suggests as Wolf proceeds to hum once again.  
"Mr. Zubović? He doesn't come in until at least two days later."  
"I can force him to come earlier. I'll just pick him up and we can start the heist tomorrow at the latest!" Jim stands up, excited by his new plan.  
"Jim. Why are you so fucking stubborn?"  
"Hey! You'd be this fuckin' angry too if someone ratted YOU out. Piece of sheh-ehh..." He sneezes.  
"Bless you!" Wolf stops his mumbling and pardons. He then continues again, Wolf seeming to occupy himself with tunes and melodies whenever he's not speaking.  
"Welcome back to the dust. You'll get used to it." Nathan snickers.  
"Yeah, yeah. Look, I'll get the guy, give him a mask, and we can go tomorrow. The more we wait, the harder it'll be for us." Jim persuades.

"...Alright. Christ. Go pick him up. Wolf, rest." Nathan orders as he walks back up the stairs. Once Nathan leaves, Jim can't help but give Wolf a wide wicked grin. "About mother fuckin' time."  
"Well done!" Wolf congratulates. Jim's smile grows larger, his body shaking to the point where he readies his arm for an excitable punch. He forgets Wolf is lying quite close to him under the thick white blanket. Wolf goes quiet and stares up at his fist ready to swing in the air. Wolf panics, swearing repeatedly in Swedish; "Nononono-!" He groans as Jim hits him in the crotch accidentally. "Ughhh..."  
"Fuck me. I didn't know your stomach was there. … That was your stomach right?"  
"Fuck off." Wolf curls over and cuddles himself. Jim laughs and apologizes before walking back upstairs.

"Oi, Dallas." Jim sits lazily down onto the couch.  
"Hm?" Nathan looks up from his work on the kitchen bench.  
"Throw me the phone?"  
Nathan looks to the landline phone, picks it up and does an underarm throw towards Jim. He reaches for it, the plastic nipping his fingertips before accidentally being bumped further into the air, hitting the wall behind Jim. It makes a large "fwack" sound as it hits before falling onto the soft safety of the couch. "Skit!"" Jim and Dallas hear Wolf's muffled swear from the basement.  
"Ahck, Fuck it." Jim swears at his failure to catch, picking up the handheld device before dialing a hard to remember number that he hesitates to input.  
"Jim, if you drop it again, you're paying for it if it ends up smashing."  
"Yeah, yeah. Won't be hard. My PayDay is tomorrow. Haha!" He laughs in excitement.  
"It won't be if we fail."  
"Don't worry. This new guy is a fuckin' oiled door."

"You know his history I'm guessing?"  
"Who doesn't. A hitman."  
"You realise that his way into the Payday gang was that he betrayed his own ally?" Nathan pulls out a cigarette from the pocket inside of his brown jacket.  
"I doubt he'll do that again."  
"Let's just keep an eye on him."  
"God-Fuck, Dallas. You're as paranoid as a possum stuck in the track of migrating birds."  
"Yeah, okay. I get it." He lights the cigarette in his mouth and proceeds to waft a small cloud of smoke from his lips every now and then.

The two don't talk to each other for a small while, they barely even look at each other. Whilst the two men have their obvious spats at each other, they do have something in common. Getting the work done. Hoxton is stubborn, Dallas is a perfectionist. Together, they always manage to motivate the team into getting the sweet, tasty prize of victory.

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Jim stares out at the window, smiling a little, with his arm rested on top of the chair next to him. "I hope you guys are ready." He looks at the other men in the van: Nathan, Nicolas and the new member of the gang, Mr. Zubović. The man is slightly taller than the rest of the men, wearing a suit, like the others. "Sometimes it's good to not be fully prepared." Zubović addresses, Nathan looking over to him with a strange look of bewilderment. Zubović continues; "Sometimes it's just good to get the adrenaline going. Be unprepared, the fear of being caught."  
"Alright, Infiltrator." Nathan starts; "I know you like to do things differently, but here, we stick to plans."  
Jim seems to easily notice the sudden conflict between the two, Nicolas too busy putting on his heavy body armour to toil with the commotion around him.

Nathan adds. "Talking about plans, I've devised it all up. Jim and Zubović will be one pair. Me and Nicolas will be the other." All four men begin to properly suit up, relatively in the same span of time the four put on their specially custom designed masks, bulletproof and strapped on tight. "Load your weapons. Make sure you have everything you need." Dallas commands. The gang has always looked up to Dallas as a leader, even though he was never officially a leader. The PayDay gang had no leader. Every individual depended on each other and helped each other to get the job done, to get their payday. "Hoxton and Dragan, get acquainted, you'll both be trying to hack into the system for those files. We need to figure out who ratted Hoxton out, and this FBI agency is the best place for it. Me and Chains will do most of the running around. Whatever you two need we'll get. Got it?" Dallas begins to refer to the gang by their nicknames as soon as the masks are put on.

"Got it." Chains nods, the four loading up their array of weaponry, assault rifles, sniper rifles. They pack grenades and ammo bags, even first aid kits in case things go awry.  
A few bangs from the front of the van is heard. "Alright. That's the signal, let's move!" Dallas opens the van side door, the gang hustles out of the white vehicle and into the public road, in front of the FBI agency. Screams are heard, soon overpowered by the noisy van that quickly drives away to safety.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Start

**PayDay - Undercover**

A fan-fiction series by JebCC

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Note to readers: Sorry this one was a little late! (A lot) It's holidays over here and I've been making the most of it! I've also been working on my music and art lately more than anything. However, here it is! Expect another chapter next week! Hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 3 - The Start**

"That's the entrance! Don't pussyfoot around, knock that front door down!" Hoxton directs the van to smash into the building front, causing the glass to shatter, and the wall to crumble, granting access to the FBI building. The gang recomposes themselves and hops out of the vehicle as Hoxton cackles; "Fuckin' nice one!" The alarm is set off, causing a whirling sound to echo through the entrance halls. The gang, suited up in bulletproof vests and heavy duty weaponry, storm down the well-lit hallway and into the central lobby, the FBI scattering about the balconies and desks.

They take cover, occasionally peeking out to take a shot or two from the pillars that dot the lobby area, with Dragan, the new crew member, taking the risk of sneaking up to the nearby front desk. The hiding guard looks up from the wooden cover to look around. The man tries to react, not fast enough, Dragan's pistol suddenly rests up to the guard's head. One bullet and the man's body is flung to the ground. Dallas urges him to hurry whilst the rest of the gang heads upstairs. "First stop is the operations room." Hoxton instructs. "It's the Fed's nerve center. Should be able to find what we need there."

The group scavenges around the facility, staying close together as they search for the operations room needed. Chains yells out; "Over here!", drawing everyone's attention to a small room connected to the office area. It's covered in glass windows, and the walls are lined with servers, cords, and computer equipment that would make any hacker smile with enthusiasm, as Hoxton does. "This is it! Right, I need to get on those servers. Clear the room!" he yells. Chains opens the door and shoots the one guard inside who is strangely oblivious to the masked men outside, despite there being a substantial amount of open vision and loud sound. Hoxton rushes into the room whilst Chains carries out the body. He leaves it outside to give room for Hoxton in the already-crowded space.  
"Okay. I'll get to work on these servers. Keep me covered!"  
A gunshot suddenly whizzes past Dragan's head. He ducks and swears; "Fuck! This is more dangerous than I thought."  
Dallas reacts immediately and starts firing at the source, a stray FBI agent on the balcony. He takes cover behind a wall, with the gang keeping a close eye on him. He peeks out to shoot, but Dragan manages to clip his leg with a bullet that causes the agent to collapse onto the ground in pain. As he attempts to scramble to safety, another bullet crams itself into his skull. Dragan takes the last shot and as a result, kills the man.

"Don't start celebrating. SWAT hasn't even arrived yet and I need more information." Hoxton warns. "I'm missing some files: Witness testimonies, kept in the archives. Get me those files!" he commands, still typing away at the computer for more data. With Chains guarding, Dragan and Dallas swiftly pass through the offices and back into the open lobby, sliding down the staircase railing and beelining a small corridor. They rush down the basement stairs and reach the archive room, protected by a flimsy locked door. Dragan and Dallas look at each other, Dallas giving the kind of stare that you'd immediately read as; "What now?"

"Did you bring C4?"  
Dragan checks the belt around his stomach. "Wolf told me to be the technician of the mission till he recovered."  
Dallas nods as Dragan retrieves the pack of explosives from his strap, slapping it onto the door with tape. They retreat behind the metal staircase beforea big explosion forces the door out of its hinges and into a million wooden bits. The frame in which it stood on is completely ragged around the sides, as if a car was piledrived through the tiny space.

"Start searching these shelves!" Dallas waves his hand, ordering Dragan to search one half of the room, while he searches the other half. The books stand in alphabetical order, listed by last name. Searching for 'Hoxworth', Dallas finds the section marked 'H'. Dallas and Dragan throw away unneeded files into one big messy pile on the tiled floor until they find the correct one. Dallas suddenly exclaims; "Got it!" as he waves around an orange paper slip. He beckons Dragan to follow and returns to the operations room with him. Dallas crouches to the floor, and hands the slip to Hoxton. He yanks the files out of the slip and hunches over the computer, not bothering to take a seat. "I'll get to work on this. Cover me."

"SWAT's here!" Chains yells, before a sudden rain of bullets spits against the walls. A stray one hits Chains in the chest, absorbed by the bulletproof vest hidden under his suit. He groans as he tumbles to the ground, immediately retreating to safety behind a group of desks. One by one, the gang carefully dispatches each SWAT member that runs into the offices or onto the balconies. "Are you fuckin' havin' a laugh? There's a whole god damn server missing. The log says it was taken to IT for maintanence. We NEED that server!" Hoxton whines. This time, Chains and Dragan go, running past the lobby and into the other office areas. They examine each room, unfortunately each door locked with nothing but the squared windows providing vision into the rooms. Dragan points out; "In here!" He gestures to the bulky computer sitting on the desk, the missing server. He starts to lockpick in, Dragan being specialized in silent damaging. Not bothering to smash the glass out of fear of unwanted SWAT attention on this part of the FBI facility.

Dragan and Dallas remain under siege as they try to protect Hoxton and themselves, shooting any threats that are out in the open. Hoxton growls; "Ah. Bloody hell. Some interview files are locked. Need approval from… Fuck me! The Director himself! Whoever this rat is, he's connected. Get to the Director's office!"  
"We got it!" Dallas affirms, getting Dragan to follow him to the other offices where the others are. Dragan manages to break into the office. And just as they arrive, Chains scrambles in and takes the server, hauling it back to where Hoxton is.

Dallas passes by him and enters the main office. The Director's. He sits at the desk and immediately starts to type away at the computer, hacking it to find the password. "You're in!" Hoxton speaks into the wireless microphone, the gang able to hear him from their earpieces hidden inside their masks. "Ha! His password was: iheartrainbows44. The requests are on the way. Approve them!"  
One by one, Dallas approves each request given by Hoxton. A bullet snips by the edge of Dragan's mask. He flinches; "Fucking hell!" and ducks under the desk. Dallas looks to Dragan, the poor newbie cowering behind the desks with his shotgun held closely to his chest.  
"We got a bollocks-load of clearance now. Get back here! Still work to do." Hoxton orders, a bullet suddenly blasting the computer screen, causing the monitor to go black. "Dragan! Dammit, let's go!" Dallas yells in his husky voice.

They rush out of the office, shooting any SWAT in their way from the lobby to Hoxton's server room. "This better be the last of it, Hoxton!" Chains yells as he peers out of cover to shoot at an oncoming gunman. Dragan leans to the side out of cover to shoot with his pistol at the nearby guard and immediately down him. A sharp pain suddenly flares in his leg. "Ack! Shit!" Dragan swears as his injured leg fails him, falling to the ground. On his back, he shoots at the threat on the balcony that had managed to get a shot at him before falling to the ground incapacitated. Dallas rushes to Dragan's side. "Dragan! Come on. " He helps drag him to the safety of cover, in between two desks. "Dragan's down!" Dallas alerts.

"Right. Fuck it! I gathered all the intel we need onto one of the servers. Someone grab it and let's leg it!"  
"I'd fucking like to!" Dragan yells.

"I'll go." Dallas pipes up before rushing into the server room, hurriedly disconnecting the server from all its wires and stuffing it into a duffel bag that Dallas swings over onto his back.  
"Chains and Hoxton, help Dragan back. Let's get downstairs!"

The gang dodges bullets and whizzes pasts rounds of fire, rushing down the stairs to the best of their ability and back to the entrance hallway, this time taking the set of stairs to the downstairs garage where their escape vehicle awaits. Dragan throws down a smoke grenade, leaving the SWAT in a dazed confusion as the gang make it to the black glossy van. Dallas heaves the server into the van's open truck and closes it as each member hops into a seat, Dragan taking a bit more time to do so than the others.

"Good work!" Hoxton cheers, the disguised FBI van drives out of the facility and towards the safe house.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Suitcase Dilemma

PayDay  
A fan-fiction series

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Note to readers: So. This is very late. But that's okay! I have a lot planned out. Nothing else much to say but I hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 4 - The Suitcase Dilemma I **

"What is this?"  
"A suitcase."  
"Wow. No fucking shit, sherlock. What's in it?" Jim asks angrily, Nathan laughs as he places the suitcase on the dining table. The safehouse was unusually quiet today, likely because of the recoveries and business of the crew lately. Dragan and Nicholas went to train. Wolf was taking the healthy opportunity to go for a few walks today now that he's able to move again. The last few days have been uncomfortably uneventful for Jim though. Being "released" from prison, he expected more fun than just sitting in the safehouse being shown Nathan's "handy-shmandy bollocks" he picks up on the streets.

"It's evidence." Nathan finally answers.  
"Of what? The broken down car? Your house's fire? The evidence for your convicted cousin's witness against your aunt's best friend's daughter-in-law? Spit it out, would ya!"  
Nathan seems entertained by Jim's rant.  
"It's evidence against us." Dallas opens the suitcase, showing the contents. Inside the velvety lined case is photos, documents, crime scenes and even a whole folder full of other sorts of ideas and claims. Jim straightens up and smartens his voice, realizing the seriousness. "Huh. How did you get this? Where?" He seems concerned now.  
"A woman came up to me whilst I was on work at the bank." Nathan starts, Jim still not being able to believe that Nathan works with a bank, the very type of target of the PayDay gang. "She said she wanted to talk to an official. I'm glad she came to me and nobody else."  
"It doesn't look like she has any real suspects though..." Jim questions as he holds a few of the documents up for him to skim.  
"Look at this." Nathan hands Jim a yellow slip. He stares at Nathan, glaring, slightly nervous but not one to show it. With hesitation he grasps onto the slip and peeks inside. Shocked, he sighs and rests his hand against his forehead. "Ah. Fuck."  
"She managed to figure out about Wolf. She knows stuff we don't even know. We have to figure out where she got it from." Nathan worries as Jim takes out the photos and pieces of evidence that directly link Wolf to multiple crime scenes.

"So what do we do? Where do we go?" Jim asks.  
"I'm going to study these documents. I'm sure she didn't just get them from the TV. There must be some sort of source for this information. We have to find it and destroy it."  
"...do you think she linked it from the FBI incident?"  
"Possibly. From what I've seen so far, she's gotten this information illegally. When I spoke to her, she explained she was a mere babysitter."  
"Babysitter my ass."  
"She definitely got the information from the government, but I don't know which building. I'll have to figure it out. Luckily the police are too busy handling other issues to dig through their files for investigations. We have time. But not a lot."  
"Alright. See what you can do. I'm going to get some lunch."  
"Hmph. I'll see what I can do a bit later. I have a dentist appointment to go to."  
"For what?" Jim turns. "Your teeth are whiter than my dead grandmother."  
"To talk. Also... just a checkup. You should get one too. Would do you good."  
"No one's touching my teeth. I'll bite their ears off if they even scrape my kissers."  
"Enjoy your lunch, Jim." Nathan snickers and starts to pack the suitcase contents back up. Jim laughs and heads for the hallway. He stops and turns his head slightly, now in a more serious tone. "W-What did you do?"  
"Hm?" Nathan looks to him, focused on Jim as he ceases his hand's movements.  
"The woman. You didn't just take her suitcase and run did you?"  
Nathan's glance turns into a stare, a subtle mysterious look on his lips, beaming eyes and concentrated stillness. "...I did what any of you would have done."  
Jim looks down, nods and leaves. Whilst the PayDay gang was used to murdering the cops and anyone with a gun in front of them, there was the strict rule of only taking hostages, killing them would be the last resort. But unfortunately there have always been situations where it will never work out that way.

* * *

Dragan looks over to Chains, loading the assault rifle, a weapon that he wasn't all that familiar with. "I never thought I'd be holding one of these." Dragan chuckles.

"Ha, you'll get used to it. Especially in the heat of the moment." Chain stares down the barrel of his gun, firing a few loud rounds into the tree a good yard away. Chain looks to Dragan, nodding in approval of the gun positioning. "Hm... Aim a little lower."  
Dragan does so and looks to Chains who winks and smiles. "Shoot!"  
Dragan looks down the barrel loosely and fires. The gun jolts in his hand, flying back into his shoulder with force as a few bullets are sent into the bark of the same battered tree. Dragan swears; "Packs a punch."  
"You obviously haven't tried a sniper rifle yet then."  
"Oh no. I have. But that was a long time ago..." Dragan shakes it off and fires another few rounds. "Haha. Feels good."  
"Good. Once we get back to the safehouse, we can pick the right type of gun for you." He smirks.

Dragan puts down the gun and stretches his fingers and arms. "I have a question."  
"What is it?"  
"What can you tell me about the PayDay crew?"  
"Haha. 'course. Dallas. We call him the head of the gang. He's not. But he's good at planning so we just kinda follow his flow, know what I mean? Then there's Hoxton. He's a trouble maker but a really good member. He can be mean, but he's not selfish. Hoxton tends to get a bit... Heated though. Then there's me. Nothing special. Own a house, got a wife."  
"How sweet."

"We've got Wolf. We don't know his real name. Never tells us. He's a little... Weird though."  
"Weird?"  
"He's insane. No hesitation when it comes to the robberies." Chains sneezes as the pollen gets around the field.  
"Oh. That makes sense."  
"Who else... Houston. Dallas' brother. A young sport. Real agile. Still a good shooter though. That's about it. There's you now too! Although, I think Bain doesn't want us having more than four people on the 'stage' at once."  
"Why is that?"  
"Safety reasons. Less members to harm when there's less to begin with, hm?"  
"Ah." Dragan nods. "Should we start heading back then?" He stares at the tree line. Chains follows his gaze, seeing the brightly shining setting sun, gleaming orange rays of light sparkling between the trunks of the trees.  
"Yeah. Let's go." Chain picks up the assortment of weapons and heads down the dirt track with Dragan by his side.

* * *

A man stands at the cash register, peering outside, focusing on the foggy windows. The cold radiates off the glass, glooming over his body, while his hands rest uneasily on the bench. A woman walks into the store, with the bell ringing shortly. The man's attention is drawn to the lone customer. She's wearing a suit, a business manager possibly. They make eye contact. The woman walks further in and the sliding doors close behind her. Despite it now being closed, the cashier couldn't help but feel a little colder.


End file.
